Saint Graph Collapse
The battlefield had already shattered once.
And now, it was about to be torn apart completely.
The air trembled as the Servants gathered their remaining strength. Their bodies flickered, their forms twisting under the weight of their power. Their Saint Graphs—the very foundation of their existence—were beginning to crack.
Yet none of them hesitated.
Not when Foreigner stood unscathed.
Not when the monolith still pulsed with abyssal energy.
Not when the war was still undecided.
Lucian gritted his teeth. His grip on his Command Seals tightened, the heat of his burning circuits sending waves of pain through his body.
"One last time!" he roared.
And then—
They unleashed hell.
---
Lancer leaped forward, her blade igniting with a violent crimson glow.
This time—she held nothing back.
"—Devour the sky, CRIMSON CRESCENT!"
She swung.
A colossal arc of blood-red energy carved through reality itself, distorting space as it raced toward Foreigner.
The world around them buckled as the Crescent tore apart the battlefield. The sheer force of the strike broke the laws of existence, warping the air in its wake.
But Lancer didn't stop to watch.
Because the others had already moved.
---
Alter's black flames roared to life, surrounding her like a burning storm of madness.
Her cracked, fragmented Saint Graph pulsed erratically, barely holding itself together.
But she just laughed.
"Burn. Vanish. Fall into the abyss."
Her twin pistols aimed forward, the black fire twisting into an endless vortex.
"—ABYSSAL OBLIVION!"
She pulled the trigger.
A torrent of abyssal fire engulfed the battlefield, swallowing even the void itself.
The flames burned beyond existence, erasing everything in their wake—even light itself struggled to survive within them.
But there was still more to come.
---
Archer stood motionless, her bow raised toward the sky.
Her arrow was already drawn.
A single, blindingly pure bolt of golden energy sat between her fingertips, radiating divine judgment.
She inhaled deeply—then whispered her incantation.
"The stars pass judgment. The heavens bear witness."
The sky split apart.
A pillar of light descended from above, surrounding her arrow in holy fire.
"—CELESTIAL JUDGMENT!"
She loosed the arrow.
It vanished.
For a moment—there was only silence.
Then—
A lance of divine energy tore through the battlefield from the heavens, a beam of pure destruction meant to wipe all evil from existence.
Its target—Foreigner's Monolith.
---
Saber was the last to move.
Her blue flames burned brighter than ever.
Her body was on the verge of collapse, her Saint Graph barely holding together.
But her sword remained firm.
She exhaled slowly, steadying her stance.
"If the world is to burn… let my flames be the last to remain."
She raised her sword.
Her black flames surged upward, forming a massive blade of raging fire.
Then—
She swung downward.
"—BLACK FLAME RAGNAROK!"
A wave of black fire erupted from her sword, clashing against the abyss itself.
Unlike the others—her form did not waver.
Her Saint Graph remained intact.
And as her attack descended upon Foreigner's domain—
The world collapsed.
---
Foreigner did not move.
She did not react.
She simply existed.
And as the combined force of four Noble Phantasms bore down upon her—
Her monolith shuddered.
it cracked.
And then—she activated her own Noble Phantasm.
The world—ceased.
The concept of time froze.
Reality was rewritten.
What remained of the battlefield was swallowed by a black infinity, a domain beyond human comprehension.
Lucian's breath caught in his throat.
The air had become void.
The sky had become emptiness.
And at the center of it all—
Foreigner remained.
She raised her hand.
And the universe itself trembled.
"Cosmic Domain."
A single phrase.
And then—
The battlefield was erased.
---
Lancer screamed as her body fractured, her Saint Graph splitting apart under the strain.
Alter staggered, black flames devouring her own form as her existence began to unravel.
Archer fell to one knee, cracks spreading across her body, her spirit core nearly ruptured.
Berserker roared in defiance, but even she could not resist the inevitable—the very fabric of her being was beginning to break.
Even Lucian could feel it.
The war had never been about power.
It had never been about strength.
This was a battle of concepts.
And Foreigner's concept was winning.
The only one still standing—
Was Saber.
Her flames flickered.
Her grip on her sword tightened.
Her Saint Graph—though battered—did not collapse.
Lucian's eyes widened.
"Saber…?"
She took a step forward.
Then another.
Her black flames refused to fade.
Her presence remained.
Foreigner tilted her head slightly.
"Interesting."
Saber gritted her teeth.
She was not going to fall here.
Not now.
Not ever.
She raised her sword once more—
And the final battle began.
---
To Be Continued…